


Metamorphose

by tuesday



Series: Author's Favorites [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Gallows Humor, Gen, Other, POV Second Person, Spoilers - Neutral Route, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, Spoilers - Pacifist Route, Temporary Character Death, Unreliable Narrator, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It looked like this MERCY thing was easy enough, if you were the sort of person who went for that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Metamorphose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prosodiical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/gifts).



> Prosodiical, you mentioned in your letter "exploring a previously almost genocide route Frisk/Chara," and I immediately decided I had to treat you. I even added skeleton dates! 
> 
> A more general note: You know how Undertale does an impressive job separating Frisk, the Player, and Chara? I can only apologize. (I'm not sorry.) Take it as read that though many things happen as they did in canon, this is an AU.
> 
> Thanks so much to my lovely beta! Any and all remaining errors are my own.
> 
> (ETA: If you re-read and notice some minor formatting changes, you're not imagining things! I am just really bad about making small changes forever after posting.)
> 
> Warnings: Temporary character death, implied permanent character death, the consumption of sapient beings, semi-graphic violence, murder, attempted genocide, dark humor, a bittersweet happy ending, dysfunctional friendships, and spoilers for all three routes.

You were bored at first. After the first few, they all died easy. All those years of battle, and the monsters were locked away by blood and by magic? It would have been less trouble to kill them all.

—

The goat was patronizing, condescending. She treated you like a helpless child, like you hadn't sharpened your stick into a crude spear and put it to good use before you'd made it out of that first part of the Ruins.

At least she understood you in the end, knew something of what you were.

And her, with her sickly sweet pie and prison plans? She was so much dust beneath your heel.

"Do you really hate me that much?" she'd asked.

Yes. Yes, you did.

—

All those monsters dead at your hand, covered in dust, and the tall skeleton welcomed you with open arms. Didn't he know that was a good way to catch a knife?

His brother, at least, recognized you as a threat, even if he misunderstood the rest of it. 

After all, violence? Humanity had honed that to an art form. As good as you were at it, how could you be anything else?

—

The fish put up a fight. 

It was worth dying to finally feel some excitement. It was fast-paced, almost frantic. Even when the tides turned, you came back to kill her again and again and again. You memorized her every move, her every word, and you revelled in it. It was a dance, a duet, the best musical number you'd ever been part of.

It was _fun_ . . . for a while.

But eventually, as always, you tired of the game. 

—

Really, you'd thought at the time, there was only ever one way it could end.

The spider, the robot, the countless annoyances unworthy of your time, though you tracked down every last one all the same—they were barely enough to slow your progress, to put off that inevitable conclusion for one minute more. 

After the fish, there was little point in lingering. You'd kill the monsters. You'd kill any humans who tried to once more cast you down. You'd kill them all.

It seemed as good a game plan as any.

—

The other skeleton, though? That was where it all fell apart.

Who started with their best attack?

You were somewhat begrudgingly impressed.

—

You begrudged it less each successive round.

Didn't mean you had to like losing over and over again.

(But let's be honest: you did. You really, really did.)

—

He _knew_. He knew, and he wasn't even afraid of you, didn't flee before you like the flower and other vermin desperate to escape your knife. 

Even if he didn't exactly remember, he still changed, adapted each response accurately. Just when you grew complacent, assured of your ability to judge the battle's start and flow, he laid you flat mid-speech.

You almost missed it through your surprised laughter, but before the void took you, you caught the edge of, " b u r n i n g i n h e l l ."

—

You killed him.

Of course you did.

You had all the time in the world. If he was right, chances were you'd even decide how long that was.

The experience wasn't quite as satisfying as you'd hoped.

There was blood, a bit of a delight after nothing but dust, but he didn't bother to look at you, to acknowledge his defeat. You had your suspicions, but you weren't _certain_ who he was talking to, where he thought he was going, step after unsteady step straight for the wall. You blinked the dust out of your eyes, and he was gone.

When you dipped a hand in the red, the texture, the viscosity, the hue—weren't what you'd expected. Then again, what monster bled? 

Your fingers were sticky. They tasted of tomato and vinegar.

—

It wasn't quite as satisfying, but that was fine. You could work with this. It just meant you had to try again, take a moment to savor it. This next time, you'd drink in his desperation, his despair. You wouldn't miss a single moment to your own confusion.

And you were right! It really was better the second time around.

—

"You're really kind of a freak, huh?"

You kept smiling. Sans was getting it now.

—

You'd never bothered to RESET. You'd never wanted to. What, were you supposed to look forward to the tedium of killing all those monsters all over again?

You'd never bothered to show MERCY. What was the point in leaving an enemy at your back?

You'd never bothered with anything but the ability to FIGHT.

But now you almost wanted to.

There was nothing of compassion in the impulse. Every slice of blade through bone brought you only ever more joy. Fifty-seven combined deaths and counting, and you weren't sure you'd seen everything Sans had to offer.

You wanted to strip clothes, slice open bone, see if the ketchup ran through to his marrow. You wanted to prise open his skull to see what this particular monster's brain looked like. You wanted to gather close his soul and experience his magic inside and out.

You wanted to know him all.

—

"Hey," you said as Sans tried not to drift off. "You know what I can do, what I'm capable of." His eyes were half-lidded, but you still took the moment to twirl your knife. Sans attacked to a beat; surely he could appreciate the occasional flash of style. "And not just in a fight."

"Didn't we just have this talk?" Sans sounded bored. Only one eye was open. It would almost be insulting, if you weren't so charmed.

"Yeah, but you talked. I listened." You were smiling, smiling, your cheeks aching from your delight. You'd never tried this conversation thing before. You leaned in as close as the monster magic would allow. To his credit, Sans never flinched. "In all your readings and resultant concern over things like alternate timelines and time travel, you obviously failed to take one thing into consideration."

Sans yawned. Both eyes were closed.

Almost whispering now, you said, "I've never RESET."

His eyes opened. Oh, how you smiled.

"At least. N o t. Y e t."

—

You didn't immediately RESET or even LOAD. 

You were still having fun.

—

"Hey, Sans," you said. "What's your brother like? Do you think we could be friends?"

Turned out Sans had in him an undiscovered second wind.

—

Sans killed you this time.

You maybe even let it happen.

You were just so damn happy.

You still had no idea what Sans had left.

Wasn't

this

so

much

f

u

n

?

—

You didn't immediately RESET, but you knew now—you were going to. You'd RESET as many times as it took.

You were going to crack open Sans's bones and suck the marrow dry.

—

You were really on a roll now. You and Sans had never been friends. Until you stepped foot in this hall, he wasn't even on your radar.

When you RESET, you'd have to fix that.

All the same, you dropped the knife. You didn't think you'd ever get enough of surprising him. But then, he was always managing to do the same. You certainly didn't expect him to open his arms.

Smile gone wry, you walked right in. As always, it was a good way to catch a knife. It was a good way to catch a cage of sharpened bone, too—right through the heart and other assorted organs.

("Geeettttttt dunked on!")

You thought, _This might be love._

"If you were ever my friend," and you weren't, you weren't, but you were very much looking forward to it, to showing Sans just what kind of friend you could be, "you won't come back."

—

Of course you came back. Was there ever any doubt?

—

"Don't tell the other Sanses," and it wasn't the first time he'd said it, but you wanted to fix that particular look on his face in your memory.

"Of course not," and your voice was all too fond. This time, Sans hadn't had a chance to get used to you yet. His expression went strange, the same one when he'd realized (again, again, again) what a freak you were. "Any message you _do_ want me to pass on?"

Sans blasted straight to his first, best attack.

Really, it was his own fault he'd caught your attention so well.

—

The funny thing was, you'd expected him to smell like ketchup, perhaps of salt and grease. You didn't have any previous preference for it, but you'd imagined you'd come to like it by association alone.

Instead, Sans smelled . . . dry. Of dust you thought would be gone when you started over. Of sun-bleached bone. Of deep, frozen winter and the void.

He smelled like the cold that crept in and made itself at home, that dragged at you until it was all you could do to move. The cold that crooned softly, _Rest a while_ , and, _It'll all be over soon_. The cold that made you forget you were ever cold at all.

It was the sort of smell that was worth losing a few organs for.

—

"Did you just _sniff_ me?" Sans demanded.

It wasn’t great, as last words heard went, but it was somewhat better than being told to get dunked on.

—

"Sans," you told him. "Before I RESET, there's one more thing I want to do."

"What—"

—

You watched Sans sleep a while. He'd almost earned it, and you certainly didn't know if the other timelines would afford you the opportunity.

There were dark circles under his eyesockets. Sweat dripped slowly down his skull and pooled in the collar of his shirt. Every tense line of his body was writ in exhaustion.

Well, you reassured yourself. If you really missed this, you could always murder everyone all over again.

—

You'd always hated vinegar, but you were starting to acquire a real taste for it.

You finished licking your fingers and walked through the door.

That yellow flower couldn't run forever.

—

You ignored Asgore. His time would come, but all of time (or close enough) was in your hands, and you weren't ready for it to end yet.

"Please," the flower said. 

It was shaking. It begged you to spare it. 

It called you by some dead kid's name.

"My name," you said, smile reflected in the knife's gleam, "is Frisk."

—

And 

then

you

R

E

S

E

T  
.

—

Flowey flinched from your smile. You honestly hadn't expected him to be there to greet you at all.

"Flowey," you said. "The flower."

Surely that was friendliness in your voice. So why was he backing away? Why not show you the friendliness pellets this time around? Or maybe _you'd_ show _him_ —

Toriel arrived in the nick of time, though she set the one she'd rescued on fire. Maybe you'd misjudged her. Why hadn't you liked her again?

"My child," she called you, and she held her hand out in welcome.

Ah. Yes. That.

In a flat, dead voice, you informed her, "I am no one's child."

She seemed taken aback. "Ah. Certainly, my—certainly." But she pressed on admirably.

—

You didn't really remember the puzzles, but they were mostly solved for you. Toriel had told you to wait, but this was one thing you wouldn't change from last time. You just couldn't take the boredom. Look, you'd even spared the dummy.

Taking just _one_ candy was certainly an exercise in willpower, though.

—

Okay, you admitted grudgingly. Napstablook's hat was pretty cool.

—

"Are you sure," you asked the others, who'd failed their own ditch attempts, "that you don't want me to kill him?"

Jerry finally, finally sidled nervously away.

The other monsters looked like they didn't know whether to say thank you or to flee. They settled for calling it over their shoulders as they ran.

And still you had managed to not kill anyone. It looked like this MERCY thing was easy enough, if you were the sort of person who went for that. (You weren't, but you were curious enough to try.) And without stopping to ferret out every last monster, you were sure you'd be out of the ruins in no time.

You didn't consider Toriel. This was a mistake.

—

Maybe you had been a little overzealous with that last attack. Then again, she _had set you on fire_.

—

"Damn it, damn it, damn it."

"I, I see you've reset," Flowey piped up. You thought you'd liked it better when he still hoped he could escape you. Maybe then he wouldn't have appointed himself to the peanut gallery, or at least might have refrained from offering the occasional opinion. "Could it be you regretted—?"

Flowey barely dodged the thrown knife.

—

"Tell me again," you demanded of the frog, "about how to SPARE someone without half-murdering them first."

"Ah, well," and the little guy had reason to be nervous, as your blade was pressed to his throat. "Sometimes, sometimes you don't need to ACT to show MERCY? Or that's what some people say?"

"If she sets me on fire _one more time_ , I am coming back for you," you promised.

—

You didn't have a lighter and had to get a little creative, but there was plenty of stone, and you did have that stick.

Roasted frog legs actually tasted pretty damn good.

Flowey watched you from behind a ledge. You couldn't tell if he was terrified or envious.

"You claimed you did all these wonderfully terrible things in your timelines," you said, disbelieving, "but you seriously never ate anyone?"

"I'm a monster, too!" Flowey protested. A pause. You kept chewing. "How . . . how did you cook him without the meat turning to dust?"

You rolled your eyes. "They have to actually die before they'll change."

The charred, twitching thing beside you gave a final croak. 

"Fffffffff—!" You shook your dusty fist at the ceiling. "I wasn't done yet!" You looked at Flowey. Considered it. "Then again, I haven't had salad in a while."

—

You backtracked just a little more and had all the monster candy for dessert.

—

Buttercups: actually poisonous. Who knew? 

Oh, well, you'd needed to LOAD to before your killing spree anyway.

—

"Oh, my child, you really won't fight me—?"

—

"If you're trying not to kill a person," Flowey said from a safer distance this time, "it helps to not stab them seventeen times. Just a tip!"

In your defense, you'd told her not to call you a child.

—

You wrenched the door open and threw both middle fingers at the sky.

There wasn't a speck of dust on you.

Everything was awful.

—

You were so glad to see Sans that you laughed. At a whoopie cushion.

You entertained once more the idea of murdering everything and just living in that future, in that perfect day over and over until you finally tired of it. Your blood could paint the walls, his ketchup the floor. Maybe you'd work your way up to what Sans tasted like besides ketchup, though you'd have to be careful with that 1 HP. Still. You were creative. You'd come up with something.

It was a nice thought.

It filled you with DETERMINATION.

It was the only thing that got you through Sans hiding you behind a lamp.

—

Why was every monster but the flower so damned tall, anyway?

Sans was the only one approaching a normal size, and you begrudged him his extra inches all the same.

—

"There is no solution to this word search." Your voice was flat. You couldn't believe you'd picked up this "puzzle" in the first place. "The closest solution is off by a letter."

Sans just grinned at you. Papyrus vacillated between admiration at his brother's cunning and indignation at his blatant cheating.

"Come, Human. I, the Great Papyrus, will show you some much better puzzles. Puzzles with actual solutions! Nye he he he!"

—

The bridge—well, you were finally finding something to like about Papyrus. Those buzzsaws, the flames—and you were really curious about what the dog would do, too.

This would be f u n.

So of course Papyrus took it away.

Your shriek of rage startled him into taking a step back. It was too late to adjust, and your momentum carried you right over the cliff's edge.

—

"Isn't my brother cool?"

You couldn't quite tell if Sans was mocking you.

He probably was. But then, he seemed to sincerely admire Papyrus, too.

Looking at his smug skeleton grin, you thought: Both. It was definitely both.

—

Despite your best efforts to distance yourself from it, you kind of loved petting the dogs.

They'd transformed from terrifying creatures with razor-sharp teeth to fluffy bundles of joy. You stopped worrying they'd snap at your fingers or bite off your face and just—let go for a while. Maybe the next time you started all over, you'd leave the dogs alive.

Lesser Dog licked your chin, and you would deny to your dying breath that the sound that startled out of you was a giggle.

—

You were still bitter about missing out on Papyrus's only awesome puzzle, though.

—

Being called a weird puppy was somehow better than being called a child.

Or perhaps it was that they really were _that fluffy_. How could you hold their rampant wrongness against them when they eagerly shoved their floppy ears right into your hands? Maybe if Toriel had let you scritch behind her ears, it wouldn't grate quite so much to have let her live.

—

Snowdin was very . . . full . . . when all its residents hadn't run for the hills. You saw quite a number of monsters you hadn't found to murder your last time through.

All those delicious sandwiches and pastries put quite the dent in your wallet, though. It wasn't fair that you were being a "better" person, and you were being charged for it! You absolutely did not tell the cashier, "In another life, I'd have murdered you."

Or if you did, well, you'd reloaded afterward.

No one could prove a thing.

—

You didn't have enough money for the inn.

You didn't have enough money for the inn, but the owner let you stay.

"When I do this all again," you promised her, "you get to live."

Her mouth dropped open.

Feeling generous, you added, "Your kid, too."

—

You had to LOAD again. It was a thing you had to do sometimes. Best not to risk certain things getting back to Sans.

—

Your room's neighbors _snored_. Luck was with you, though, in that they hadn't locked the door. You were going to get a good night's rest if you had to kill everyone in this inn.

—

You had to LOAD a lot, actually.

—

"Holy shit, Papyrus," and you couldn't help but _beam_ at him. "You've been holding back on me. This almost makes up for that puzzle!"

He was no Sans, but you had fun all the same.

Too much fun.

You forgot you weren't supposed to kill the tall skeleton this time.

—

You stuck to complimenting Papyrus on his attacks. Easier not to accidentally go too far that way. He did not take this in quite the manner you intended.

Fair enough. 

If you'd ever tried your hand at flirtation with Sans in that near-perfect, alternate future, your admiration for his attempts at murdering you would have featured heavily.

—

"You're going on a date," Flowey said. "With Papyrus."

"Yep." 

" _Papyrus_."

"Looks that way."

It was kind of funny, having the flower follow you around now. He was just so confused.

"Is that—is that why you—?"

You laughed. Flowey flinched at the sound.

"No."

Flowey didn't ask for clarification. You didn't volunteer. You were starting to get bored again. 

You turned your back on Waterfall and walked back toward the snowy, little town. Best get this over with.

—

Papyrus friend-zoned you.

"Yeah, well, your brother's the one I wanted, anyway!"

Surprise and indignation were not a good combination for keeping your mouth shut. 

Papyrus was delighted that you "liked" his brother and that you were able to "recover from your heartbreak" so swiftly. ("It's good to see you ready to get back out there!") 

Papyrus wanted to talk about Sans's good qualities. ("Don't let his puns scare you off. He is a surprisingly good conversationalist when he puts his mind to it! . . . Which is almost never, but still! I am certain that he would make a great date. Almost as great as me!") 

Papyrus wanted to be co-conspirators in getting Sans to live up to his potential. ("So you see, it would be to _everyone's_ benefit if you could rouse him from bed earlier in the morning. He just locks me out, but—")

This was possibly the worst date in the history of terrible dates, and you had been on any number of them. You'd know.

You ended up throwing yourself out the window to escape. In the distance, you heard Papyrus apologize for being a terrible host and not realizing you needed to use the restroom. You hid behind the locked shed until you knew Papyrus had lost interest and left the house. That, or he was forming a search party.

You decided to take the opportunity of a mostly empty house to try picking the lock to Sans's door. You were already going to have to LOAD to make sure the last few hours _never happened_. 

You weren't very good at lockpicking. You were pretty sure Sans was laughing at you in there. Oh, well. At least your date was sure to go better the second time around. It's not like it could go any worse.

—

You murdered Papyrus.

"I am the worst date," you said, miserable despite sitting in Papyrus's dusty remains. "The worst."

_Sans could never know._

—

Next time. You were sure next time would be better. The shock of being rejected by a skeleton had blunted with repetition. You thought, third time's the charm.

(And it's not like you even _wanted_ to charm this particular skeleton.)

—

"I could have killed you! A hundred, no, a thousand times over!"

Great. Even without being surprised, apparently you just did not deal well with rejection.

Papyrus took your death threats with surprising calm. "And that you did not even try shows why you are an admirable person and a good friend!"

All the same. You could do better. 

(It was nice, though, to see Sans on your way out, to have him loom menacingly in the distance to show he'd heard your threats and was unimpressed with your life choices. It was almost nostalgic, in its way.)

—

It took twenty-seven tries.

It was worse than fighting Sans.

At least that was fun.

—

"Yes," you said drolly. "Someday, I am sure I'll get over you."

Papyrus beamed at you.

Your hand twitched toward the toy knife, but you beat the impulse down. You could do this. You had this. It would all be over soon.

"You're so brave! Here, allow me to give you an uplifting and strictly platonic hug. A hug of friendship!"

—

Make that twenty-eight.

—

Huh. There were people at the entrance of Waterfall. 

Apparently, without a dead brother to mourn, Sans staffed the sentry booth.

"I'm going to Grillby's," Sans said, and you'd passed it on the way here, but—

But it hadn't really sunk in. 

In the background, beneath the buzzing in your ears, Sans kept talking. You tuned back in to hear him ask, "What's that look?" 

You shook your head rather than answer. At some point, you would tell Sans about that day you'd killed him—how you'd puzzled over his last words and maybe sulked a little over his having ignored you entirely there at the end. You'd explain the entire thing just to see his reaction. But now—

"Guess I'll take my lunch break alone, then," Sans said.

—

You'd never hit LOAD so fast in your life.

—

Sans could teleport. Your brain was stuck on this fact. Sans could teleport. Sans could teleport, and he could take you with him.

"Fast shortcut, huh?"

You knew your face was slack with shock, but come on. His banter with Grillby's clientele drifted past without registering. You sat down.

. . . Sans could teleport, and he used it for _whoopie cushion gags_.

—

This was almost, you thought, like a date. You'd never been on one of those before.

(You deliberately and with great determination resolved not to count the others, including the date with Papyrus. Especially the date with Papyrus. What date? This was the first in your life. In any of your lives. You were as pure as the driven snow when it came to romantic experiences.)

A meal together. That sounded nice. And you didn't even have to murder Sans first.

Your very first date.

So of course Sans wanted to talk about his brother.

—

Apparently you weren't the only one subjected to Flowey's attention. No one wonder he was so obsessed with your date with Papyrus.

. . .

. . .

. . .

"Are you okay?" Sans asked.

"I will make this my first date by sheer force of will!"

You really needed to learn to keep your mouth shut.

You hit LOAD before you could be friend-zoned by _two_ skeletons.

—

Okay.

Not the greatest of first dates. But this second of first dates was going better. 

You were learning a lot! Like why Sans bled ketchup. And you didn't even have to cut him open for this discovery!

"Sure you don't want some?" Sans asked.

It was probably rude to watch someone this intently. You didn't particularly care. Almost absently, you said, "If I really wanted any, I'd just kill you for it."

Sans stared at you. It took you an embarrassingly long moment to figure out why.

You were so bad at this.

—

"Why not stick to something you're good at?" Flowey asked while you stomped around in the snow. "Like killing! Or being killed. Pretty sure dating isn't working out for you."

You took a break to take his advice. You felt a little better for it. And hey, maybe after this, he'd stop offering any at all.

"You're just proving me right!" Flowey said. You tore off all his petals anyway.

—

"If this were a date," you said instead of telling Sans what you thought of his brother, "I would be doing okay, right? Top five? Top ten? At least, not the worst you've ever had, right?" 

Sans opened his mouth, but didn't manage anything intelligible before you interrupted, "Wait, no, don't answer that!"

Despite having no eyebrows, you got the impression of Sans raising his.

And then, because you really couldn't help yourself: " _Is_ this a date?"

You hit LOAD before he could reply.

—

You walked back out of the smaller cavern and into the frozen field between Snowdin and Waterfall.

You buried your face in the snow.

There may have been screaming. Lots and lots of screaming. For once, it might have even been yours.

But no one could _prove_ anything.

—

You asked Sans if it was a date four more times.

—

"This is getting embarrassing," Flowey said. "I am embarrassed for you."

You thrust a hand from your snowy tomb to give him the middle finger.

—

You made it through the date, mostly by shoveling fries into your mouth so you couldn't talk.

Success!

You promised to keep an eye out for Flowey. And hey, you were smart enough to not call him by name. (This time.)

It was tough, but the worst was behind you. The rest of Waterfall looked to be smooth sailing ahead.

—

It was an effort of will not to shout, "Traitor!" and clamber up the cliff's edge to show Papyrus the fate of those who betrayed you.

Monster Kid went on and on about how cool Undyne was. It was obvious he'd never been jabbed by one of her spears before.

Then again, you had, and you still thought that was one of her best qualities.

—

Papyrus wasn't a traitor. He would also never be a criminal mastermind.

"I changed, Papyrus."

"And I'm sure it was only for the better!"

"No, I meant—" It wasn't worth it. You hung up before Papyrus could go on about self-improvement.

—

You'd forgotten how allergic you were to Temmie.

"It's okay," Temmie reassured you. "Temmie is also allergic to Tem!"

"How are you even alive? Besides my not killing you yet."

Temmie's horrified little face would never stop being funny. Still. Better to LOAD. Surely there was a way past them without contracting hives your whole body over.

—

Monster Kid was terrible at insults—almost as bad as he was at the walking thing.

You and Undyne traded stares with each other and with the kid, dangling from the side of the bridge, at a détente.

"Aren't you going to get that?" you asked, finally.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you!" Undyne snarled.

"Yes?" You weren't sure what the right answer was here.

You went back to staring.

He fell off the bridge.

—

Hesitantly, certain that any moment now, Undyne would strike, you walked forward. You helped Monster Kid up. You made a friend.

Monster Kid was as bad at fighting as he was at walking and insults. You could've told Undyne that it would be easy to get through him to attack you. He was no real barrier at all.

She backed down.

Since when, you wondered, was Undyne a pushover?

—

Undyne skipped the lecture and got right to the fight. You traded taunts. She attacked faster and faster, but you already knew this dance. In this, at least, she kept her backbone.

"What will it take to end you?" she demanded.

Even so, surely she would tire soon.

Surely.

—

You both had too much DETERMINATION.

—

"Why won't you just give up and take my MERCY?" you demanded.

"Why won't you just give up and DIE?" she yelled back.

—

This wasn't working.

—

You disengaged. 

You had vague thoughts of hitting LOAD and carrying Monster Kid along as a living shield. He was your size and pretty heavy, but that meant he'd do a good job of covering you. His thick, scaly hide would probably deflect some of those spears if Undyne changed her mind about attacking monster children. He'd slow you down, but Undyne was wearing full plate mail and seemed to be doing well enough.

"Come back and fight me!"

You preferred fighting, but it was nice to disappoint Undyne. Her anger and frustration was almost as good as watching her turn to dust. Maybe you'd taunt her with pacifism more often in the future. Maybe you'd promise to _never_ fight her.

Watching her stalk toward you, it occurred to you—

"We don't have to fight!" 

It was a revelation Undyne was unimpressed by. "Get back here, you little punk!"

You juked to the side and sprinted into the tunnel with the "Welcome to Hotland" marquee. The letters were actually scrolling past instead of the phrase frozen halfway through.

While you were distracted watching for any new messages, Undyne caught up with you.

—

But green magic only lasted so long.

—

"What is wrong with you!" Undyne roared.

It was the fifth time she'd caught you and you'd escaped. You were maybe having a little too much fun with this. "Why don't they have announcements or something? If it's just the same message over and over, they might as well have a fixed sign instead."

"Stand still!"

You seized the opportunity to take off again.

—

Sans was manning the sentry booth in Hotland.

"How many jobs does he have?" you asked Undyne. You barely dodged a spear this time. "Is he . . . sleeping?"

"Hey, hey, Sans, a little help here?" Sans made a soft snoring sound. "Lazybones!"

 _That_ snort was almost a giggle, but otherwise he didn't react.

"You are the worst," you said accusingly—admiringly—and ran for the bridge.

Undyne stopped to lecture him. He slept through that, too.

—

Undyne collapsed.

You poked her with your stick.

She made a quiet, angry noise, but failed to move past a small, full-body twitch.

"All that DETERMINATION, and you give up here? Defeated by a little warm weather?" You were disappointed.

She weakly raised a hand. You watched with interest. She grabbed your ankle and toppled you right off the bridge.

—

Magma was highly unpleasant up close and personal.

—

You climbed into the booth with Sans. Lack of mobility made it easier for Undyne to skewer you.

—

Undyne was roasting right there in her platemail. You watched her, considering. You wouldn't even need a fire.

"I can't watch this," Flowey moaned, though he'd been doing so the last ten minutes.

Regretfully, you admitted, "All that dust last time upset my stomach."

You didn't kill Undyne. You didn't save her.

You kept your vigil until all that remained on that bridge was an empty set of armor.

—

When you got to the Hotland lab, there was a lizard in a lab coat crying.

She blubbered something about Undyne and how you just watched her cook alive in that armor. She went on about the water cooler just feet away. She said something accusing about how you'd licked a fin before you'd decided the taste wasn't worth it.

You knew this was going to get back to Sans.

—

You went back.

You poured a cup of water on Undyne's head.

You said, "I really don't care if you want to be my friend," even as she relented in her attempts to kill you.

You walked back to the lab. The lizard wasn't crying this time.

—

"That's kind of creepy, Alphys." Cameras _everywhere_. No wonder Sans knew everything you'd ever done. You wondered if there was an internet feed. Something occurred to you. "Hey, is there a simple way to stream it to my phone?"

"S-sure! You just—" What followed was a torrent of enthusiastic technical babble that you utterly failed to comprehend. You nodded along, face blank, thoughts churning. After a few minutes, Alphys seemed to understand that this was far beyond your abilities. Almost shyly, she offered, "I could do it for you?"

"How do you feel," you asked slowly, "about mass genocide?" Faced with _that_ expression, you rushed to reassure her, "I'd find a way to leave Undyne alive!"

In the end, you admitted defeat. You would have to put in more effort than you were willing if you wanted to compile a greatest hits murder montage. Oh, well. It's not like you could've kept it on the RESET.

—

"That's kind of creepy, Alphys," you told her, because whatever the timeline, it needed to be said.

Mettaton showed up. He was acting slightly different from what you remembered, but then, as far as he was concerned, you hadn't killed anyone yet.

—

"What is it with you people and puzzles?"

Alphys helped you.

You'd have been better off without her.

—

Mettaton was acting _really_ different from what you'd remembered.

"But how did you turn the dog into a bomb?" you pressed. "Do some dogs just come that way?" Maybe this was the reason for the swinging dog in Papyrus's puzzle. You regretted more than ever not getting to experience it. "Where do you even get explosives around here, anyway?"

Alphys interrupted, as she always did. "D-don't you want to defuse the bombs before they go off? I can help you!"

Fine. For such a chatty box, Mettaton was being surprisingly tightlipped about his sources.

—

You set up a rabbit and a dragon.

You flirted with a tsunderplane.

You managed to finally, finally stop a tiny volcano from setting you on fire.

You weren't killing _anyone_. . . . So why weren't you bored yet?

—

You were eaten by a spider's pet spider. Several times. You didn't want to talk about it.

—

At least Muffet admitted this time that you would be _delicious_.

—

Sans wanted a second date!

He took in your quiet shrieking for a moment before asking, "Is that a no?"

—

"I don't think he meant you to take it that way," Flowey said on your next LOAD.

"You shut your mouth!" You pointed accusingly. "You're just jealous you can't get your own skeleton boyfriend."

The worst thing about Flowey was that no matter how many times you hit LOAD, he remembered.

—

Sans took you to a fancy restaurant!

He ordered ketchup. Of course he did.

—

Sans told you a story. Eyes gone dark, he ended with, "You would be dead where you stand."

"I think that's third date material," you said blankly even as Sans said, "Just kidding."

You stared at each other.

"Right. That was also a joke. Ha. Ha ha." 

"Kid . . ."

You pushed away from the table. "This never happened."

"Are you—"

"Never. Happened."

You hit LOAD before Sans could contradict you.

—

You were jealous of a motherly goat. How had your life come to this?

Still. Dinner was nice. Maybe your next date, Sans would stop talking about other people.

—

Burgerpants remained the saddest thing you'd ever seen. It would be a mercy to kill him.

Once more, you let him live.

You almost felt bad this time.

—

Somehow, Alphys's deception didn't bother you. Maybe it was that she and Mettaton were so bad at it.

"I kind of figured when you added several minutes to the timer. And slowed the other one down." Mettaton looked pained. It was amazing how much a metal rectangle could emote. "Out of curiosity, how many times did Alphys go off script?"

The answer was: a lot. Mettaton on a tear about artistic responsibility and remaining true to a vision was pretty entertaining.

—

You and Mettaton scored all the ratings. It was . . . fun?

"No, but seriously," you said as he started to power down. "You have to tell me where you got all those bombs someday."

He offered, "Feel free to guest star anytime!" 

It was certainly more interesting than killing him in one hit.

—

The palace was as you remembered it.

Sans was waiting.

What would it be like this time?

—

On the way, some monsters told you a story. It was a nice story.

Too bad it was wrong.

—

Sans was proud of you.

It was laughable. You were laughing.

"Love?" Your lips twisted into a sneer. "I'll take the LV, thanks."

—

Asgore didn't try to serve you tea this time around. At least, this once, he could get _one_ thing right.

—

Flowey wanted to fight you. He always was getting in the way.

—

Six souls. Six other people you could have been. Seven was supposed to be a lucky number.

Flowey huddled before you. Was there even a point to killing him?

He said he knew a way to get a better ending. He said you could save everyone this time.

"If you wanted a better ending," you said, a toy like a blade in your hands, "you should have done it yourself."

—

You stood outside. You watched the sun rise. You waited to feel different.

—

You RESET.

—

"I don't understand," Flowey said.

You brushed past him. "You never did."

Toriel was waiting. You'd try something new this time.

—

Toriel encouraged you to call her Mom. When you asked if you could scritch her ears, she thought you were flirting with her.

You laughed. Just like Flowey, she could be funny sometimes.

—

You told Napstablook how much you liked his hat, that he was your new favorite.

How did a creature without blood blush, anyway?

—

Toriel didn't ask if you hated her this time.

—

You decorated a beleaguered monster. You stole a hat and killed a block of ice. You solved puzzle after puzzle, all the solutions already known to you.

Most of it was new, but it didn't fill the void.

You stopped several times to pet some dogs. That, at least, never got old.

—

Out of curiosity, you let Papyrus beat you. He never struck the killing blow.

You did, however, find out what was in that locked shed.

The dog bed proved surprisingly comfortable.

—

Papyrus was adorable. You let him win a second time, and he put you right back in the easily escaped shed.

You never wanted this to turn stale, for even the memories to bore you. 

He didn't win the third time around.

—

You were almost fond of Monster Kid now.

—

You killed Undyne.

What?

You'd said you didn't want to be friends.

—

When you made it to the lab, Alphys wasn't crying, though her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. The longer walk must have given her time to calm down. If you didn't know her, you might not have even realized she was grieving.

But the true victim here, you thought, was Mettaton. His script was exactly as bad as you remembered.

—

A spider placed a flower where Muffet had stood. 

You stepped on it.

—

Some monsters were easier to kill. Some were easier to spare. You weren't in a hurry, but mostly you took the path of least resistance.

Once again, you and Mettaton put on quite the show.

—

The monsters told you a story.

It didn't get better with repetition.

—

You could take Sans being disappointed in you. You were used to that. You were happy with that.

But this? No.

"I'm a murderer!" you shouted at him. "I, I killed at least seven monsters!"

Seven? You weren't sure. You hadn't kept track. Still. Sans had admitted that you'd killed some people. Some of them were even his friends.

Sans agreed with you. You were a murderer. And you'd faced your judgment. Only you could decide where you went from here.

Sans wasn't going to fight you.

"Fine," you snarled. "Fine. Let's see how forgiving you are when your brother's one of the dead."

You hit LOAD.

—

It went faster this time. You barely spared a moment to chat with Napstablook and compliment his hat. Most monsters in your way died. Some, it was faster to show MERCY. By the time you left the ruins of Home, you were covered in light dust.

Not as much as the first time through—Sans still decided to shake your hand.

—

You were in a bit of a rush, but you were never too busy to pet some dogs.

—

Papyrus really was adorable. How did you miss that, your first time through? It was difficult to muster the necessary killing intent when you were having this much fun. 

You had to resort to remembering something you'd promised yourself to forget. You briefly closed your eyes and conjured the scene: 

Papyrus, in his ridiculous date outfit, throwing himself onto his race car bed while clapping his hands. 

Saying, "We could be family!" 

Saying, "Do you think I could be best man _and_ flower girl?" 

Saying, "Even if we didn't work out, your dating power is strong! There's a very good chance my brother could love you. At least, it's not impossible!"

You opened your eyes. Papyrus meant well, but he had to die. He might not remember, but you had many, many good reasons besides inciting Sans to violence. You were going to kill him.

—

It took longer than you thought it would.

—

(Papyrus believed in you.)

—

"Are you crying?" Flowey asked.

" _You're_ crying," you told him, trying to ignore your leaking face.

It might not be true that very moment, but it would be sooner or later. He always had been a crybaby. It was just a matter of time.

—

Walking through the caverns, it was strange, not having Papyrus a phone call away. It almost felt . . . lonely. 

It wasn't your fault. It wasn’t like you’d _wanted_ to kill him. If Sans would just cooperate, no one would have to die.

It wasn't your fault.

You were filled with DETERMINATION.

—

Undyne was not pleased about Papyrus.

But without the mass murder to stoke her ire, she was only a little more determined than the average monster.

. . . Okay. Maybe more than a little.

"Stay down!"

You always forgot how many tries it took for death to actually stick.

—

One more time, you and Mettaton put on a show.

—

You were starting to get sick of this story.

But Sans was waiting.

—

"That's it?" You were trembling. "I just—I killed Papyrus, but you're just going to call me a dirty brother killer and let me go?"

What was _wrong_ with this world?

—

"How many times are you going to RESET?" Flowey asked.

"As many times as it takes." You were tired. You weren't sure if you meant it.

—

You killed every monster in the ruins.

It took longer than you remembered.

Napstablook couldn't die, but he didn't want to be friends.

You understood. You were an awful friend, anyway.

—

It was boring, and it was tedious, but you were really doing well for a while there. Sans failed to recognize you were human, like that first time through. You didn't bother with any of the puzzles. Occasionally, the ghost of your anger whispered in your ear how many monsters were left.

You could do this. 

You were doing this.

—

You couldn't kill the dogs.

"I'm sorry," you said, hoping it would make it better, easier to put Lesser Dog down—but you couldn't do it. "I'm sorry."

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You buried your hands in Lesser Dog's ruff. He continued to make happy noises. He licked your face as his elongating neck wiggled in your arms. You held on for a while.

You were never going to see your Sans again.

—

Fine. This was fine. You could work with this.

Sans had said a lot over the various RESETs. One thing stuck with you.

Love instead of LV? If he really loved you, he'd try to kill you. All you had to do was ask.

—

You RESET.

—

As frustrating as it was to re-do everything, you had to admit that it was nice to have Napstablook as a friend again.

—

"What are you doing?" Flowey asked when you took a break in Hotland.

You ignored him. You were getting good at it.

(It was only fair. He'd ignored you the one time it mattered most.)

—

You hated that story.

—

"Sans," you said, and you were tired, so tired. "Fight me."

Sans refused.

"If you don't fight me," and you thought you meant it, but you couldn't be sure, not really, not anymore, "I'll just keep resetting. Over and over and over again. This timeline won't be real. None of the timelines will ever be real."

Surely _that_ would put a dent in Sans's calm, caring facade.

But Sans refused.

"Please," you said. "I just—I want to go back to when it was simple. I want to go back to when I didn't care. I want—" You wanted to be full of LV. You wanted to not love anyone but yourself. You wanted it not to hurt when it was all over. "Fight me. Or I'll tear this whole world apart."

Sans refused.

—

So you RESET.

—

"Boy," and you couldn't bring yourself to drive Flowey off, no matter how close his smug face came, "it looks like someone's having a bad time."

"Asriel," you said. "Shut up."

Flowey went quiet. Voice hushed, he finally asked, "How do you know that name?"

You didn’t answer.

—

Toriel showed up. Of course she did.

“My child,” she said. You made an ugly sound. She stooped down and gathered you in her arms.

“My child,” she said again.

You didn’t kill her.

—

"Really not feeling it," Napstablook told you.

You lay down beside him. You confessed, "Me, either."

—

You and Toriel played at being a family. She didn't ask about yours, and you graciously didn't point out that all her children died and what that said about her as a mother. She made pie in a variety of flavors and told you about life underground. 

"We can be happy here." She didn't sound like she was fooling even herself.

Eventually, you stopped pretending. There was a reason you weren't her favorite child.

—

You left the ruins. You stomped through snow, trudged through water, and stopped beside a river of magma to have a small panic attack.

You gathered your courage. 

You were filled with DETERMINATION.

You 

went

H

O

M

E  
.

—

Your room smelled musty, disused. Everything was the same. 

Your locket was right where you left it. You picked it up, contemplated putting it on. Once, it had meant everything to you. You sat on the bed, the locket clutched in your hands.

"Chara," a soft voice said. You didn't look up. "I thought that was you."

"That's not my name," you rasped.

"It's Frisk now, isn't it?"

Slowly, you nodded.

"Does that change anything?"

You laughed, a short, sharp bark of sound. When you'd looked in the hall mirror, you'd known: despite everything, it was still you.

—

You did it all again.

If some of your actions seemed wooden, rehearsed, no one was cruel enough to comment. 

You'd decided. This was the last time.

—

You did most things the same as that second time through. You did some things different.

When Toriel held out her hand, you took it.

You sprawled out on the floor beside Napstablook and felt like garbage, while the universe spread out before you.

Despite your trepidation, you accompanied Papyrus to Undyne's house. He abandoned you, but it went better than you could have ever imagined. Undyne was kind of cool when she was encouraging you to set things on fire.

Cool enough that you delivered a letter for her later.

—

None of that really mattered.

What mattered was this:

Under Alphys's lab was another lab.

In that lab was a room.

In that room were several home movies.

You touched the screen. "You idiot. You left the cap on."

—

Here's a better story:

A kid fell down a mountain. 

Maybe they were running from something. Maybe they were pushed. Maybe they jumped. The reason wasn't important. Kids fell down mountains all the time. It's why they weren't supposed to climb them alone.

So what made this kid, this mountain, special?

When they cried out, contrary to all expectation, somebody came.

—

The monsters wanted to be free. You'd known firsthand how awful humans were. (You were one of them.) Seven human souls? It wasn't that high a price to pay.

The plan was perfect. You'd have your revenge. The monsters would have their freedom. Asriel would have your soul. 

Neither of you would ever be alone again.

Of course, he bungled it. You should have known. He'd always been weak, a crybaby who cared more about other people than doing what was necessary.

You'd told him! It was kill or be killed. He _chose_ to die. 

You didn't know how to forgive him.

—

(If forgiveness came easy, you'd never have sent him back to your village in the first place.)

—

You gave up on Sans. Monsters were always disappointing you. It was in their nature.

Violence was in yours, but you weren't going back this time.

You didn't feel any different. It was still you. A very long time ago, in a future that would never happen, Sans had asked if you thought people could change—if you thought even the worst person could. You didn't have an answer then.

Now?

You were filled with DETERMINATION.

—

Asriel took all the souls again. Asriel took _everyone_. You were kind of impressed.

"Chara," he said. "No, Frisk."

For once, Asriel didn't want to let go. Empathy was usually beyond you, but you understood. You understood too well.

"You're not alone," you said. You didn't want it to end, either.

But you'd already done what you wanted. It was Asriel's turn this time around. And no matter what he said, what he thought he felt when he didn't have a soul, Asriel had always wanted to SAVE everyone.

So you did.

—

When it was over, Asriel reverted to a crybaby. It was his natural state. You tried not to find it endearing. Some things, you couldn't change.

Love was one of them.

—

Here's the thing: Asriel could have kept those six human souls. The monster souls could have been set free to wander the Underground once more, and you and Asriel could have joined them. Monsters were oddly forgiving—you were sure they'd get over Asriel having briefly subsumed them all. Asgore and Toriel, at least, would be ecstatic to have their child again.

You could have been happy. It might have taken you a while. You were a slow learner sometimes. But you really believed that—you could have been happy.

Asriel, as always, got in the way.

—

You left a bevy of would-be friends and family at the Underground's exit.

There was something you needed to do first.

You didn't RESET, but you went back to the start.

—

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Asriel asked.

After a long silence, you said, "You were supposed to kill those people." 

Asriel looked away. 

"I thought it would help."

"Us? Or you?" Asriel still had a little of that backbone he kept showing at the most inconvenient times.

You smiled. You answered honestly, "Both."

"It wouldn't have made you happy."

"I know." Venting your rage on the entire Underground hadn't, after all. You looked down at the bed of buttercups. "It probably wouldn't have helped the monsters, either."

Six human souls in return for freedom seemed a small price to pay, but it wouldn't have stopped there. Humans as a whole weren't very forgiving, and they were much, much better than monsters at exacting revenge. There was a reason they'd won the war.

Finally, you asked the question you'd wanted to all along. "Come with me?"

"I can't—"

"I could carry you!" you burst out. "Like you carried me. Not your body, but _you_."

Without a soul, Asriel would turn back into a flower. All that made him special—his empathy, his affection, his sheer love for everything and everyone—would disappear. You'd first liked him for being different, for being like no one you'd met before—for being the one who came. You didn't want him to change.

"I'm sorry," Asriel said, and the worst part was that you knew he really meant it. "This time, you need to go on without me."

You and Asriel sat there in the fading light of your grave. He had one last favor to ask of you.

—

_You didn't want it to end._

—

No one commented on your red eyes or dusty hands. They might not have seen—the sun would be setting soon. You were surrounded by friends. You were alone.

You took a deep breath and stepped out into the light.


End file.
